


Sexy Silk

by TeaGirrl



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, M/M, Massage, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Magic, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:46:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaGirrl/pseuds/TeaGirrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This isn’t really helping my shoulders,” Arthur says shakily, blood rushing through his veins as Merlin crawls over him, knees on either side of Arthur’s hips, hands braced against the mattress on either side of Arthur’s chest.<br/>“No pain no gain,” Merlin quips. And there it is again; that promise of intense pleasure that Arthur is so familiar with, that he craves with his entire being when it’s dangled in front of him." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Merlin gives Arthur a massage that leads to sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sexy Silk

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the song "Sexy Silk" by Jessie J. No excuse is needed when writing Merlin smexytimes. So therefore I regret nothing.

Arthur puts the quill down and cracks his fingers, trying to rid his joints of the stiffness after hours of writing decrees and speeches. He has lost track of how long he has been sitting at his desk. All he knows is that the last of the day’s sunlight disappeared a long time ago, and that his shoulders are aching from hunching over his desk for too long.

He rolls his shoulders and lolls his head back, closing his eyes and sighing as he feels his muscles flex. He’d hated paperwork as a Prince, but now he missed the times when it was all over in two hours at the most.

“How’s official King business coming along?”

Arthur’s head snaps up at the sound of the voice, and sees Merlin crouching by the fire, trying to revive the dimming embers. Sparks are dancing in the air above the smouldering logs, forming dragons and butterflies and intricate swirls. He’d grown used to Merlin’s magic by now, but he never ceased to marvel at how beautiful it was sometimes.

He hadn’t noticed Merlin’s presence before; he’d been too wrapped up in the dull words written on the stale parchment. Arthur stands and stretches his arms above his head, not failing to notice the way Merlin’s gaze drifts to the strip of bare skin that is revealed as his tunic rides up. He revels in it, enjoys it; how he somehow has the ability to capture the attentions and affections of a powerful sorcerer. He lets his arms fall to his sides and walks slowly around the desk before leaning against it, his ankles crossed and his hands braced against the flat surface behind him.

“Slowly, but surely,” Arthur replies, dragging a hand down his face, hoping to rub away the grogginess that has settled over him.

“You look tired,” Merlin observes, rising and striding towards him. His voice is laced with concern, and Arthur can’t help how his heart stutters ever so slightly. Merlin reaches out and pushes a tuft of hair away from Arthur’s forehead, letting his hand linger at Arthur’s temple for a little longer than necessary. He trails his fingers down Arthur’s cheek, his thumb lingering to ghost over Arthur’s lower lip before settling in the crook of his neck, his fingers gently playing with the hair at Arthur’s nape.

“Maybe you should sit down?” Merlin suggests, and Arthur wonders if he is just imagining the promise of mischief that seems to spark in Merlin’s impossible blue eyes.

“Merlin, I’ve been sitting down all day,” he counters, leaning into Merlin’s soothing touch.

“Trust me,” Merlin whispers, and now there’s no doubt about it; Merlin’s eyes are suddenly alight and dancing with fire and playfulness, and his lips are turned up in a cheeky smirk. And it’s a look Arthur has seen many times before; the time Merlin suggested they get off behind the stables in broad daylight; the time they’d had to share a horse after a hunt, and Merlin had stuck his hand down Arthur’s pants and snickered as Arthur had tried to swallow his moans, as they had been in the company of other knights; and there was the time Merlin had begged Arthur to take him over the Round Table, to which Arthur had gladly complied. Sometimes he can still hear Merlin’s load moans and filthy pleas echo throughout the council chambers.

And Arthur has learned that with that look comes a promise of pleasure; sometimes intense and scalding, sometimes prolonged and awe inspiring. All Arthur knows is that he doesn’t need to be told twice. So he nods eagerly, and in doing so feels the sturdy desk behind him dissipate into thin air. He stumbles back and lands – quite clumsily – into the chair he has sat in for most of the day. Merlin is looking down at him, his eyes dazzling, his fingers twitching at his sides – like he’s itching to touch Arthur’s skin.

Merlin chuckles at his bewildered expression, trailing his hand up Arthur’s arm as he moves to stand behind him, both hands now resting on Arthur’s shoulders. He then begins kneading the tense muscles beneath his fingers and Arthur sighs with relief. He can feel some of Merlin’s magic seep into his skin and bones, making the tension evaporate completely. Arthur’s head falls forward, exposing the back of his neck, and he smiles as he feels Merlin’s lips ghost over the skin there.

He becomes pliant beneath Merlin’s skilled fingertips and hums in appreciation as Merlin eliminates every little knot in Arthur’s upper back. His eyes are still closed as he feels Merlin’s hands trail down his arms, their fingers lacing delicately together. Merlin then guides Arthur’s arms behind the back of the chair until his wrists meet. Arthur’s eyes snap open as he feels delicate fabric wind its way around his wrists, binding them firmly together, restraining him.

“Oi, what the hell are you-“

“Trust me,” Merlin says again as he ties the final knot, kissing Arthur’s pulse point before withdrawing. The fabric is soft and doesn’t chafe Arthur’s wrists. It merely tickles. Merlin hasn’t bound him too tightly. His arms aren’t aching and the makeshift cuffs aren’t cutting off his circulation. He merely can’t use his arms. And he’s a little embarrassed at how his heartbeat quickens, how a coil of hot tension settles in his groin.

Merlin circles the chair Arthur is now bound to, still smirking. In his hands is a long piece of red silk, which he is winding and unwinding, letting the fabric slide between his fingertips. Arthur’s eyes dart between the fluttering silk and Merlin’s heated gaze.

Merlin remains behind Arthur after he comes full circle. Arthur tries to crane his head to look at him, but Merlin stops him, guiding him to look straight ahead with a hand on either side of Arthur’s head. And then the sight of Arthur’s chambers are replaced with nothing but darkness as Arthur feels the soft silk trail down his forehead and cover his eyes, before being fastened at the back of his head. He can feel Merlin’s lips ghost across the shell of his ear as he secures the knot. “You still seem pretty tense,” Merlin says softly, and Arthur’s breath hitches as Merlin’s hands dip underneath his collar and stroke his collarbones. “But I think what I have planned will fix that, _Sire_.” Merlin’s voice is nothing but a breathy whisper. His hot breath tickles Arthur’s skin, making him shiver.

Merlin pulls away, leaving Arthur feeling exposed and vulnerable. Stripped of his sight, Arthur tries to sense Merlin’s presence, tries to pick up on stirrings in the air that would help him figure out where he is; what he’s planning on doing next. But despite his efforts, Arthur still starts in his seat as he suddenly feels Merlin’s mouth on the base of his jaw. He cranes his neck, giving Merlin more skin, more space. He can feel Merlin’s teeth nip at his skin as he licks and sucks his way down to where Arthur’s neck meets his shoulder.

And then his lips are gone and Arthur can’t sense him anymore. Once again he is left with nothing but darkness. The room is silent and Arthur squirms in his seat as he tries to guess where Merlin’s touch will appear next. Soon enough he feels Merlin press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. Merlin then kisses the other corner delicately, timidly, before pressing a soft kiss to Arthur’s already parted lips.

Arthur is too hungry for his taste, too impatient to take part in the charade of innocence and uncertainty that Merlin is feigning. He knows what a kiss from Merlin can do. He knows how it makes the world spin, how his skilful tongue – a tongue that’s usually spewing out quick retorts and banter – can illicit the most animalistic of sounds. So Arthur immediately deepens the kiss, licking at Merlin’s lips, begging for him to let him in. He feels Merlin smile at his eagerness that is bordering on desperation. Merlin allows him a taste of his tongue for a few moments, but soon enough he pulls away, all too soon for Arthur’s liking. Arthur tries to follow Merlin’s retreating mouth, unable to contain the hot flush that spreads across his cheeks as he hears the needy noises he is making. Merlin laughs and pushes a hand to his chest, forcing him back into his chair.

“Hold still. Or I may just leave you here for a few hours.”

Arthur can practically _hear_ him grinning. He knows Merlin doesn’t mean it. Merlin would never do that to him. But the thought of being left aroused with hands bound is enough to make him sit still.

And he knows he’s made the right choice when he feels Merlin’s fingers unlace his breeches carefully, slowly. Merlin palms him through the cloth as he does so, making Arthur buck into his hand, chasing the delicious friction and pressure Merlin has temporarily given him. He feels Merlin’s long fingers slip inside his now unlaced breeches and release his half-hard cock. Merlin’s fingertips graze up the length of Arthur’s erection, just the faintest hint of a stroke, and Arthur bites his lip, trying to restrain the breathless words that are sure to escape if he opens his mouth.

Just when the faint touch is no longer nearly enough and Arthur is about to beg Merlin to _do something,_ Merlin’s mouth is suddenly on him, hot and wet and relieving. And he can’t hold back the moan that echoes throughout his chambers, loud and repetitive. And once he lets himself start he doesn’t stop. The stonewalls reverberate his throaty groans and harsh breaths.

“Fuck, Merlin- Your m-mouth-“

Merlin merely hums with satisfaction, his tongue flitting across the slit of Arthur’s cock, and Arthur sees stars behind his blindfold. He feels the telltale pressure build in his abdomen, the coils of desire spiral together into something uncontrollable, something untameable. But before he gets the chance to come undone and fall apart at the seams, Merlin’s mouth is gone, leaving Arthur tense and practically _aching_ for it.

“Merlin,” he growls, already missing the enveloping warmth of Merlin’s mouth. He can imagine the way Merlin’s lips were stretched around his cock, red and glistening, begging to be kissed and fucked. The mental image does nothing to soothe the spirals that have now settled between Arthur’s thighs; it has merely made them tighten, making his want all the more urgent and carnal.

“What is it, my Lord?” Merlin asks innocently. His voice is close.

Arthur speaks through clenched teeth, and even tugs a little at his restraints, seeing if they can be undone, just so he can smack Merlin about the head for stopping, or pin him up against the wall and ravish him. Maybe both.

“Finish what you started, or so help me God, I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” Merlin challenges him, always the insolent, lovable prat. “Will you throw me in the stocks?” he asks, his lips mouthing at Arthur’s Adam’s apple. “Or perhaps…”

Arthur gasps as Merlin’s knee is suddenly pressed between his open legs, pressing against his straining, spit-slicked cock. “Perhaps you’d prefer to spank me. Make me say your name with every slap. Until it’s the only word I can remember, the only name I know.”

Arthur pulls against his restraints as Merlin’s dirty words wash over him, making his arousal more tangible and demanding. Arthur can hear the desperate edge to Merlin’s voice. He can tells he’s nearing his breaking point. Soon it’ll be too much for him. And maybe then he will grant them both the relief they are so desperately craving.  

Arthur ruts helplessly against Merlin’s knee, blindly seeking delicious and rewarding friction, wanting to give himself the relief Merlin won’t give him. He tilts his head up, searching for Merlin’s mouth, which soon enough comes crashing down on him, teeth clacking together in the frenzy.

Merlin grabs fistfuls of his hair, searching for leverage as their tongues dance in a familiar but exhilarating rhythm, all the while Arthur’s hips buck into Merlin’s knee. The head of his cock grazes the rough fabric of Merlin’s trousers occasionally and he fucking _whimpers_ at the sensation. He bites at Merlin’s lower lip, wanting now, more than anything, to break Merlin’s resolve, to make him come apart at the seams.

Merlin whines breathily into the almost non-existent space between them. Arthur feels one of his hands trail from his hair all the way down his chest, before slipping underneath his tunic and dancing feverishly across his stomach, as if he wants to map out the entire expanse of Arthur’s skin all at once.

His hand travels further up and soon it finds one of Arthur’s nipples, and begins tweaking and scraping lightly until it hardens, sending small shocks through his body. The shocks all end up in the same place; they only make the fire in his loins more consuming and desperate.

He’s nearing his wit’s end. The ever-present darkness is making every touch of Merlin’s skin, every second of friction, every suck of Merlin’s no doubt swollen lips all the more intense. And Arthur is overwhelmed by the need to _see_ Merlin, to drink in the sight of him, to watch his face as he comes.

“Please,” Arthur breaths, getting momentarily distracted as Merlin’s lips travel down his chin to his neck, one hand still in his hair and the other still dancing across his chest.

“I want to see you, Merlin.”  

Merlin stills momentarily and Arthur can feel him chuckle against his neck. Merlin’s grip in his hair suddenly tightens fiercely and he tugs, forcing Arthur’s head back. Arthur can feel Merlin’s breath on his lips, can feel Merlin’s chest pressed against his, his hand trapped between them beneath Arthur’s tunic. Arthur can sense Merlin is leaning over him, can sense their faces are only a breath apart.

“Only if you ask nicely,” Merlin breathes against his lips, nibbling delicately at Arthur’s lower lip before swiping his tongue across it - sharp and then soothing.

“Please, Merlin,” he asks softly, capturing Merlin’s mouth with his, licking into his mouth, hungry for more – always hungry and wanting _more_.

“Plea-“

His words are cut off, swallowed by a groan, and he forgets what he’s begging for as he feels Merlin suddenly straddle him, the pressure of his knee now replaced with tantalizing rolls of his hips. The new friction is more rewarding, but it brings only momentarily relief.

Arthur swallows before trying to ask again. “Pretty please.”

He feels the hand beneath his tunic and the hand gripping his hair withdraw, moving to undo the knot at the back of his head. He feels Merlin press a small kiss to the tip of his nose as the silk brushes across his brow before landing on the floor.

Arthur blinks and sees that Merlin’s eyes are ablaze, small flickers of gold dancing amidst his ocean blue irises, his lips are red and wet, and a flush has settled across his cheeks. He has removed his neckerchief and the laces at the collar of his tunic are undone, revealing small traces of dark hair.

Arthur can’t help but smile suggestively, loving the provocativeness of it all. It’s a smile Merlin quickly returns.

Merlin rubs the palm of his hand down the tented front of his trousers before wrapping his hand around Arthur’s length. He never takes his eyes off Arthur, but Arthur can’t help but watch the impossibly slow pace Merlin is setting, twisting his wrist just right.

Merlin leans in, his nose brushing Arthur’s cheekbone as he whispers in his ear.

“Do you want to come now, your Highness?” He sounds breathless and strained, as if he’s trying desperately to keep his voice steady. Always the tease. Arthur can only respond with a hitched breath and drawn out moan, his eyes closing, his fingers curling around the silk that is still bound around his wrists.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” Merlin whispers a little louder this time, his voice turning guttural.

And before Arthur’s hazy thoughts have time to process what is happening, he finds himself lying on his back, the soft ruby sheets of his bed beneath him, stark naked. His arms are drawn back and elevated. He looks back over his head and sees that his wrists are still bound by the silk, but this time they are tied to his headboard.

He tugs but the knot doesn’t budge.

He looks around and he feels all the air in his lungs leave in a rush as he sees Merlin kneeling at the foot of the bed, pale, naked and _straining_ and oh so beautiful.

“This isn’t really helping my shoulders,” Arthur says shakily, blood rushing through his veins as Merlin crawls over him, knees on either side of Arthur’s hips, hands braced against the mattress on either side of Arthur’s chest.

“No pain no gain,” Merlin quips. And there it is again; that promise of intense pleasure that Arthur is so familiar with, that he craves with his entire being when it’s dangled in front of him.

Merlin extends his hand towards the collection of small bottles that sits in a corner of Arthur’s chambers, murmuring magical and ancient words. Arthur watches in awe as one of the bottles flies through the air and into Merlin’s outstretched hand. The stopper removes itself and falls to the floor. Merlin coats his fingers with the oily substance generously and the bottle floats to the table next to Arthur’s bed.

Arthur watches with wide eyes as Merlin arches his back and lets his slick fingers move past his cock to his arse. He watches Merlin close his eyes, his brows furrowed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. He almost huffs as his first finger enters, starting the preparation process, the stretching and shuddering. He soon adds another finger. Arthur watches the calculated movements of his wrist, anticipation sending shivers down his spine.

Merlin’s head falls forwards as he adds a third finger, and soon he’s moaning Arthur’s name and bucking into his hand, movements turning jerky. And the way Merlin’s voice echoes throughout the dark chambers; how his lustful words seem to etch themselves into Arthur’s hot skin, makes Arthur squirm.

“Merlin,” he says, voice strained and urgent. He needs to feel Merlin _now._

Merlin’s head snaps up at the sound of his name. He smiles sheepishly for a moment before his calm, teasing smirk returns – resuming control.

He quirks his eyebrow at Arthur before he moves to straddle him, taking him in in one swift movement. The sudden hot, tight fullness now enveloping Arthur is what makes all the teasing and torture worthwhile. Merlin trails his hands down Arthur’s chest slowly, following the muscles of his toned stomach, as he slowly raises his hips before rolling back down. He repeats this motion, slowly, rhythmically.

“Feeling better?” he asks playfully, still grazing his fingertips across Arthur’s stomach. Being the cruel man that he is, he times his next roll to be harder and rougher, making it harder for Arthur to form a reply.

“Y-yes! God, yes,” he manages to choke out.

Merlin leans forward, still rolling his hips as he does. Arthur lifts his hips off the bed, not wanting to lose the heat of Merlin’s body yet.

“Do you want me to go faster?” Merlin asks.

“Yes,” Arthur replies immediately, breathless, still jerking his hips to meet Merlin’s small rolls.

“Do you want it rougher?”

“Yes,” he hisses.

Merlin meets his thrusts with more force, growing frenzied.

“Do you want it harder?”

His voice is no longer soft and steady. His words are broken by cut off moans and small pauses in time with Arthur’s thrusts.

“Fuck yes,” Arthur whines, his arms pulling against the silk, his whole body taut as he feels the lovely tension within begin to reach its highpoint.

Merlin then sits back and rides him in earnest, crudely and raunchily. His fingers dig into Arthur’s thighs as his back arches.

“Say it again,” he says. “Say you want it.”

Arthur knows how Merlin loves to hear his voice during these acts; how he loves to hear all the filthy things Arthur wishes to do to him; how good it feels; how Arthur doesn’t want him to stop; how much he loves him.

“I want it.”

“Again.”

“I want it! I want you-, fu- fuck me, Merlin. I want you. Only you. All of you.”

Then all it takes is a few more thrusts and Merlin is coming. The sudden tightness pushes Arthur over the edge and they both cry out in relief, the other person’s name on their lips.

Merlin slumps on top of Arthur’s chest, breathing heavily. Arthur can feel his erratic heartbeat against his bare skin. They lie in silence for a few moments, trying to catch their breath, but Arthur’s arms have gone numb.

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you mind untying me?”

Merlin turns his head so his chin is resting against Arthur’s chest. “Oh, sorry.” He waves his fingers and mumbles words Arthur can’t understand, and Arthur feels the silken knots untie themselves. His arms drop to his sides, tingling as the blood suddenly rushes back.

He slings one of his stiff arms around Merlin’s resting form, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of his head. He hears Merlin sigh with content.

Arthur glances over at the fireplace and notices that the embers have relit sometime during their grand debauchery, and full-blown flames are now licking their way around the logs, casting warm shadows and even warmer light throughout the room.

The butterflies and dragons are still swirling through the air by the hearth – living proof of the glorious, tender and mesmerizing magic that makes Merlin – though they seem to have taken on some of the other’s features; a dragon with the wings of a butterfly, and a butterfly breathing fire, sending its dragon blazing kisses. 


End file.
